Dad Minus One

As I prepare myself for the fact that this Friday would be Riley’s 11th birthday, I reflect upon my life as having such a clear and distinct division that at times I almost view myself as two entirely different people.

There’s my life before Riley:

I was a young dad of two kids – an older girl and a younger boy (Riley) - and there’s my wife and I.

Two naively unaware parents who just always assumed catastrophic health outcomes from vaccine preventable diseases couldn’t possibly happen to distinctly middle-class families in suburban Perth.

We always followed medical recommendations, but babies don’t die in a country like Australia.

At least, not healthy babies anyway.

Ignorance is bliss, until it isn’t…

Then there’s my life after Riley - The catastrophe and the chaos.

Forensically retracing each one of our movements to try and identify how this could possibly happen and to find someone to hold responsible.

I wanted someone or something to blame. Something to hate. Something to hold to account.

There’s the awful cynicism and judgment that can only manifest when grief is at its freshest and most cuttingly painful.

You see a parent screaming at their child in the street and you think “why did they get to keep a child they aren’t treating right when all I ever wanted was to be a Dad to my son”.

Totally irrational, totally unfair, inconsiderate, and lacking in empathy.

Totally spearheaded by grief and fresh emotion.

Then there’s the time spent trying to entertain and engage with a 3-year-old who thinks that her brother dying is the best time of her life.

Everyone she’s ever known or cared about is visiting her, engaging with her and wanting to spend time with her.

She can’t understand why Mum and Dad keep crying and being so quiet - she’s having a blast.

It’s not until about six weeks after his actual loss when she asks, ‘when’s he coming back?’ that the reality of what’s actually happening starts to sink in.

That’s a whole ‘nother layer of trauma to add into the grieving process.

And now? There’s the quiet conversations and reflections when I’m alone in my car.

The ones that involve just him and me.

The ones where I feel comfortable to be vulnerable.

To tell him how sorry I am.

To tell him how proud I am.

How much I love him.

I often wonder what kind of young man he’d be at 11 years of age.

I hope like his sisters, he’d have a firm sense of moral justice, but he’d underpin that with a wit and sense of humour that’s as sharp as a tack.

In the time over the 11 years since his passing, I’ve often contemplated if we’ve done enough.

If we’ve moved the needle to a point where no other families could possibly endure the heartache we experienced.

There were times where I genuinely thought that we as a nation were so close to grasping it.

It pains me to say it, but in the last few years it feels like we’ve moved so much further away from that.

In an era of misinformation, of weaponised mistruths, and of individuals actively encouraging people against best practice preventative health, I believe a voice in this space to advocate for parents is more important than ever.

I look at the landscape of so many concerned parents being confused and concerned because, while the legitimate experts are speaking to the importance of best practice preventative health, they’re so often being drowned out or dismissed by some of the most disingenuous and unqualified, self-anointed ‘gurus’ out there, screaming blue murder at them all while trying to sell snake oil.

It pains me to say it, but the messaging in this space is more important than ever before.

As a bereaved parent I’m honestly terrified we’re going to see more and more deaths in this country.

Over the journey I’ve been asked on multiple occasions how best you can support us and what we do.

Well, the Immunisation Foundation of Australia is running a campaign for Riley’s Birthday and I’m asking any of my amazing followers who are capable to do so, to help us elevate the important messaging around vaccine preventable disease.

We can’t stop fighting against misinformation and spreading awareness in order to educate expectant families about how they can best protect themselves and their children from the insidious vaccine preventable diseases that caused such turmoil for my family.

If you can spare it, I’ll pop a link in the comments to sign up to make an $11 a month contribution and help us honour this fight, for Riley.

I’m not tone deaf though and I understand that times are tight for so many families right now, so even if you can only make an $11 one off contribution in honour of his Birthday this Friday, we promise that your donation will be going towards trying to keep our commitment to Riley – that no children should die from a vaccine preventable disease in this country.

💙🤍

-D-1